


Aspirin and a crutch

by Quente



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen, rikkaidai fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quente/pseuds/Quente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukimura has zero sympathy for bed-ridden teammates, especially if they happen to be his fukubuchou.</p><p>
  <i>"You suck as a patient."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sanada resisted the urge to sit up and punch Yukimura in the shoulder, hard. Just because Yukimura had practice being sickly didn't mean that he had to act superior about it.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aspirin and a crutch

The hospital at 7 AM consisted of white sheets, cold metal railings, efficient nurses, and Yukimura staring down at him from above the hospital bed, smirking.

"You suck as a patient."

Sanada resisted the urge to sit up and punch Yukimura in the shoulder, hard. Just because Yukimura had practice being sickly didn't mean that he had to act superior about it. Not that Sanada would ever say that out loud. 

Sanada hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before due to pain. He scrubbed at the sleepy sand in his eyes and stared contemplatively at his hat. He had bed head, and he wanted at least some dignity before facing up to Yukimura’s inevitable barrage of questions.

Yukimura walked around to the other side of Sanada, accidentally knocking Sanada’s hat onto the floor and kicking it far beneath the bed.

“You kicked my ha—”

"Did you take any Aspirin? Your face looks all puckered up."

Sanada took a deep, careful breath, letting it out in a slow huff to release the grumpiness. Truth be told, he was in pain. His ankle joint felt as though a hamster was slowly chewing its way through the cartilage, but he'd never admit this to Yukimura. "No. I feel fine." 

Yukimura unscrewed the lid to the painkillers sitting next to Sanada's bed. "I know when people are in pain, Genichirou. What will you gain if you don’t take Aspirin? Save the heroism for the court." Yukimura held two crumbly pills right under Sanada's nose. 

"Fine," Sanada sighed, taking Yukimura's hand in both of his. He took the pills and swallowed them, chasing them back with sports drink. Somehow, he forgot to let go of Yukimura's hand, and the back of it lay warmly against Sanada's palm.

"How did this happen again?" 

Sanada hated that tone the most. The cool, friendly tone that most people mistook for kindly. It wasn't kindly. The weight of meaning behind the question was: and how do you keep yourself from getting so careless again?

"I tripped," Sanada said shortly. The situation was far, far too embarrassing to share.

Of course, Yukimura wasn’t about to let it go. "Tell me the story," Yukimura smiled slightly and slid his hand out of Sanada's. He took a seat, pillowing his elbows on the bed rail.

Sanada felt his emotions swell into deep irritation to see Yukimura in such a position. Then, with a strange twisting in his gut, he wondered how Yukimura had the patience to stare up at the rest of his team when they leaned over Yukimura’s hospital bed. It must have sucked. No, more than that, it showed how strong Yukimura was to endure it. Sanada gritted his teeth. He could be that strong too. He could be as strong as Yukimura.

"The story." Yukimura poked Sanada's side.

Sanada looked away, toward the counter full of useful implements, like bedpans and rubber gloves, and mustered his resolve. "I was practicing with my katana, slicing straw men. As you know, I do this before important matches. I was scheduled to play you today. One of the straw men wasn't properly tied together. Some of the straw got under my feet."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sanada noted that Yukimura was cradling his face in his palm. "You slipped on straw?"

Sanada gave a small, curt nod.

Yukimura muttered something.

"I didn't hear you, Seiichi." Sanada stared up at Yukimura and noted that the soulful expression was back. Other teams thought that Yukimura’s expression indicated a tender, loving concern for his team. Sanada knew that it meant that Yukimura was about to hand him the training regimen to end all training regimens.

"I'm going to call Renji," Yukimura said with a smile.

Sanada was right. "I don't think I need any new --"

"We're going to increase your agility training."

"My current regimen --"

"I believe I'll put Marui in charge of you for a while."

This was possibly worse than spraining his ankle. The painkillers were making everything seem a little softer, however. "Seiichi. Our private training sessions aren’t enough?" Sanada's voice descended into pleading, but just a little.

Yukimura’s expression was ever so slightly impatient. “It's for the team."

"Clearly,” Sanada muttered.

"Don't be such a child, Genichirou. We've been neglecting you." Yukimura ran his hand down Sanada's leg and poked his fingers over the wrapped ankle.

Sanada sucked in his breath. Yes, it still hurt, and Yukimura knew it.

Yukimura's gaze was amused. "Tomorrow, I'll send Renji to give you your new training schedule."

"Can't you visit instead?" The words slipped out before Sanada realized how lame he sounded. It had to be the painkillers weakening his mind.

"One of us has to be with the team," Yukimura said, poking Sanada's ankle again. 

“Quit that,” Sanada’s brow creased. Yes, this was about as bad as he’d expected it to be.

Then Yukimura pulled a pen out of his pocket and leaned down over the bandage.

Get well soon, Yukimura wrote on the gauze. The pen trailing over Sanada’s swollen ankle hurt, but Sanada wasn’t paying any attention. This was because Yukimura added in a barely audible voice, "Because I want you back."

Sanada picked up his cup and drank sports drink because he had to hide the big stupid grin.

"Niou is here," Yukimura said, standing to go. "He tries to take advantage of the bed-ridden."

"He'd better not," Sanada growled. His day looked like it was about to take a turn for the worse, but on the inside, Sanada knew that his glow wasn’t going to fade any time soon.

“This will help.” Yukimura went to the room’s medical supply closet and rummaged around for a moment. He emerged with a long, metal crutch. He handed it to Sanada and smiled cheerfully, as if he wasn’t giving Sanada a dangerous bludgeoning weapon.

So that’s what Yukimura’s crutch was for, Sanada thought.

"Also, you'd better hide that bandage."

True. Why give Niou any more ammunition for the inevitable round of teasing?

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Sanadas didn’t whine. Especially Sanada Genichirou.

“No. Niou is part of your punishment for being so careless.” Yukimura walked close and rested his hand gently on Sanada’s hair, fiddling with it for a moment. “It was all sticking up,” he grinned.

Feeling as though he’d been vastly outmaneuvered, Sanada watched as Yukimura turned to go.

Niou sauntered with a cup of convenience store coffee that he handed to Sanada. “Hey, fukubuchou.”

Yukimura poked his head back in. “Oh, Genichirou? I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”


End file.
